├   disciipled​​   ┤

         → liked this (x) for a starter

              Gaze shifting around the shared cell to his childhood friend. Neither of
              them had been received with any surprise when they’d been sentenced to
              sitting around in the Skybox. Destiny like this was PREDICTABLE.
              ❝ Reckon we’ll get outta this shithole? What’re the chances of being
              pardoned? ❞ Eighteen was creeping steadily closer, and Murphy’s mind
              pondered this question frequently enough for it to be verbalized.

[ ✕ ; mbege ]

     ( ♚ ┊ sms ; johnny dumbass ) stfu how about instead of bitching u try and
     make friends until i get there, put that winning personality u got to good use

    ( ♚ ┊ sms ; johnny dumbass ) hAh of course u would

     ( ♚ ┊ sms ; johnny dumbass ) i mean who wouldn’t?? i’m hot af

[ ✕ ; SMS ; Fuckwit Stole My Name ] i dont need friends, theyre all fuckers anyway

[ ✕ ; SMS ; Fuckwit Stole My Name ] keep telling urself that m8

borncop-deactivated20190219:

❛ What are we doing here? ❜

├   Send me a sentence for my muse’s reaction    ┤

       →   disciipled​​  ||   A C C E P T I N G

❝ The fuck do you think? We’ve got a job, man. Bell’s
countin’ on us. ❞

Fingers tighten around the grip, stomach clenching in
anticipation. The thrill of a hit allowed Murphy to LOSE
himself. A d r e n a l i n e  already vibrated his
bones. Gun pressed against his stomach, [ cold even
through the fabric of his jacket ] . If he wasn’t walking
towards the cafe doors, he would have been fidgeting.
❝ There’s gonna be about fifteen people in there. The guy
with the facial tats is the one who KILLED Roma. ❞

Grounders didn’t walk the streets unarmed, unready. Gang
wars had a way of making people w a r y, ESPECIALLY
when you were directly involved. Although it was almost
a m u s i n g  to picture a man with a gun having coffee in
such a quaint corner shop. Two of them SHOULD deter
any resistance.

❝ Green’s manufactured a problem with the security
camera’s in the area. As long as the other people inside the
cafe don’t see our faces, we won’t have a problem. ❞
Tugging the hood of his jacket down further over his head,
letting his hair OBSCURE his eyes, his features were
shadowed. ❝ Hope you’re ready for this. ❞ The smirk that
coloured his lips bordered on S A D I S T I C. 

Bursting through the front entrance, the gun was pulled
from his pocket. The CLICK of the safety was audible and 
chatter quickly died. ❝ Everyone get the fuck DOWN. As long
as no one tries to play h e r o, deaths are gonna be minimal, ❞
he yelled.

├  disciipled  ┤

          → continued from this (x)

[ ✕ ; SMS ; Fuckwit Stole My Name ] hurry the fuck up man, not good enough

[ ✕ ; SMS ; Fuckwit Stole My Name ] i am not afraid to do that

[ ✕ ; SMS ; Fuckwit Stole My Name ] um what